We Sail Together
by Jenksjinx
Summary: AU Canon Div post S7/ alt S8, one-shots in sequence. Dany and Jon POVs alternate, angst of admitting feelings, arriving in Winterfell, Viserion death, Jon parentage, Stark sibs acceptance, baby Targ reveal, and Jon's feelings about baby Targ, more to come
1. Was I Dreaming

Jon woke to find streams of amber light breaking the horizon through the porthole. His eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and he shuttered them against the piercing brightness. Easing into the realization that sleep would evade him, his mind flitted through the dreams of the previous night.

Dreams, he thought. I must've dreamt the whole thing.

But a barely imperceptible smile started to form at the crease of his lips as the sweet scent of Meereenese spices filled his nose. The sudden wave of emotions pooled in his chest and he gathered the courage to open his eyes. As his gaze fell to the halo of silver strands spread out on the pillow next to him, almost translucent from the sun, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

She looks more like a goddess than a queen. My queen.

As relief set in knowing that his dreams had been memories, Jon allowed himself a moment to relive how a northern bastard came to share a bed with the dragon queen.

After he'd locked the cabin door, Jon slowly moved toward Daenerys closing the distance between them. Every inch of his body urged him to claim her as if she were the last bit of fire in the longest winter, but he feared that she would turn him away knowing that he craved her in such a lustful way. When he could feel the warmth of her breath against his cheeks and could see the glint of the candle's firelight in her eyes, he couldn't hold back any longer.

His mouth covered hers instantly, suckling her lips and teasing her tongue. His hands sliding from her warm flushed cheeks, down her silky smooth shoulders. Caressing the curve of her back, he embraced her at her waist desperate to hold her close. He pulled back briefly after feeling a rush of heat swell within him when she released a low moan. Flushed and out of breath, he sought her eyes and melted under the heated gaze of this fierce woman. He knew he wasn't worthy of such pleasure, but he couldn't lose his nerve now. Not as the whole world was crashing around them. He searched in her radiant eyes for any trace of doubt, any semblance of objection but only found the same ill-fated desire that burned within him.

Knowing there was no turning back, he feverishly tore at her bodice in between hard sloppy kisses. He was anxious to discard the fabric between them. His fingers trembled as he untied the fabric shrouding her petite frame. It's silkiness lowering slowly, catching on the breadth of her shoulders, the slope of her breasts, and the width of her hips before pooling on the floor. He couldn't tear his eyes from her swollen lips and piercing stare. She had gathered his tunic in her sure and steady hands, breaking their kiss just long enough to slip it over his head and throw it on the floor. When it dropped he spotted an iciness in her eyes, he knew it was coming but he wasn't ready for it. For a moment he had forgotten the scars were there. His breath hitched at her gaze. His failures as a leader, as a man, were laid bare in front of her. Not that she hadn't seen them before but now this dragon queen's eyes studied each of his scars intently looking for answers that he couldn't give her. Not yet.

He felt as if she could see his heart beating as he breathed heavily, taking all of the air out of the room. He had never felt more vulnerable, more incapacitated. How could he explain to her that he was never fit to lead. She had Dothraki willing to cross the poison water for her and titles that proved her worthiness to be queen. But his sworn brothers had betrayed him when he just wanted to save them all. No, they killed me.

He didn't deserve to be in her presence let alone her bed. His eyes narrowed and looked down in shame. I don't deserve this happiness. He felt her close the gap between them and lightly stroke his torso. She traced his scars with her tongue leaving a glistening trail. As she knelt before him to reach the last scar nearest his long pants and undo the cinch of his belt, she looked into his eyes once more and whatever coldness had been there was replaced with a protective warmth...is that love? He thought what could he have done to deserve the love of this woman.

A gentle kiss on his cheek lulled him out of his reverie.

"Good morning, Jon Snow" Daenerys said coyly as her smile reached her eyes. Her hands gently stroked the rough tendrils of hair lining his chin.

"Good morning, my queen" he stated in his northern accent, gruff from disuse.

"It's a bit early for the formalities, isn't it?" She said smoothly, tickling his neck with small bites.

"Aye" he said while pulling her to lay on his chest and gliding his fingertips up and down the length of her back, "it is."

He leaned over her and chanced a light kiss on her lips. Though he kissed her tenderly, he could feel the blanket tighten over his waist. Just the thought of this woman sent chills down his spine. As he stroked her hair and attempted a more passionate kiss, someone knocked on the door. What time is it? He had seen the light coming through the window but the desire to return to his cold, dim cabin had escaped him.

"Yes?" Dany asked apprehensively.

"My queen, I was hoping you and...Lord Snow had a moment to discuss our strategy in the North," Tyrion said with indignation in his voice.

Dany's eyes shifted to him. "Of course he knows," she whispered to no one.

Jon nodded stoically. He didn't care if Tyrion knew what happened between them.

But she is a queen. Discretion is in her best interest, he thought.

"We will meet in the council room on the hour" she replied firmly.

"As you wish, my queen."

As Tyrion's steps faded, Dany turned her attention back to him. "If he knows, it's only a matter of time before the rumors spread," she said cooly.

"Aye." he said as he sat up and stared at the waves through the porthole, unable to face any doubt she might display on her face. He knew the memories from the previous night were all he could hope for. He wanted to run away with her, damn the Night King and Cersei Lannister. He wanted to take her to an island, away from the responsibilities of this life and love her, and make love to her and give her the children that she believes that she can't have.

"I am a queen," she began slowly "and I have a responsibility to my people. They deserve my honesty."

Continuing to gaze at the endless sea he stated, "I've been thinking for months now on how to move past these feelings. Telling myself that we don't have time for distractions. The Night King is coming and we need to be focused." He finally turned to look at her with desperation in his eyes. "But being here with you now, it's as if none of that matters if I don't have you by my side, Daenerys. I - I love you, Dany."

The smile she had worn had faded and her eyes seemed to search the room waiting for words to appear out of thin air. As she took a deep inhale and parted her lips for a response, a light rap on the door took their focus. "Your Grace, I have brought the water basin." Missandei said kindly.

"Just a moment." Daenerys replied. She turned to look at him, but he had edged out of the bed and donned his tunic and long pants.

As he approached the door, he looked back at her with longing eyes, knowing this conversation wasn't over. She returned his gaze and gave a short nod of understanding. He opened the door and passed by Missandei with a tilt of his head and a brief "Mornin'".

Jon strode the length of the corridor quickly, wanting to put as much room between himself and whatever rejection Daenerys had planned to say. Back in his stateroom he bolted the door behind him and sat upon his bed with his unsteady hands running through his hair, just now realizing his small bun had been let loose during their consummation.

He didn't know if the northern lords would accept Daenerys and her armies, he didn't even know if their combined retinue would be enough to stave off the war the Night King was bringing. But he knew that the frozen walls of his heart had melted for this impossible woman.

As his thoughts went back to Tyrion's visit, he remembered that he had to prepare himself for the council meeting. He shook his head vigorously hoping to remove any remaining thoughts of her, although her scent lingered heavily. He undressed and bathed with the basin that Davos must've left.

As he opened the door to his cabin, he inhaled a deep breath and said a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening. Old Gods, New Gods, Lord of Light, whoever you are that brought me back. He prayed that if he shielded this world from the evils beyond the wall that the gods would see fit to reward him with his life. A life he would pledge to her. Hoping his prayers were heard, he walked through the threshold and headed to the council meeting.


	2. Enough For You

"It's important that Lord Snow renounce his title once we arrive in —"

"Leave us," Daenerys said distractedly as she cut Tyrion off mid-sentence. She assumed her council was already aware of which 'us' she was referring to after Tyrion's ambush that morning.

"Your Grace," Tyrion began firmly as he walked closer to her.

"My lord," Daenerys said looking at her advisor directly in the eyes, jaw firm, hands pressed against the wooden table lined with maps and scrolls.

Tyrion averted his gaze and looked down to his feet as if he needed to say something in that moment or everything they've worked for would be gone in an instant. But Daenerys wouldn't let that happen.

"I won't do nothing again," she restated quietly so that only he could hear her. He shifted his eyes back up to meet hers and nodded in defeat. He followed Grey Worm, Missandei, Davos and Varys out of the council chambers and shut the door behind him.

She looked at him then for the first time since he'd left her cabin. She'd wanted to be happy, to throw herself in his arms and tell him that she felt the same but reality wouldn't let her. The threat beyond the wall, her responsibilities to her people, her barrenness. All of the things weighing on her and warning her against becoming attached to this good man.

He hadn't moved or spoken yet, but his body seemed as if it would betray him. His face was slack, his eyes upon her, mouth parted ready to speak. She walked over to the window and stared at the horizon looking at memories long past.

"Do you remember when we were in the Dragon Pit? What I told you?" She began slowly allowing her voice to awaken the silence.

"Aye. I do."

"Before Drogo died," she said as he clenched his fists at the mention of her deceased husband. She had told him the story of how she gained the title of 'Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea' late one evening on the ramparts of Dragonstone. "Everything seemed perfect, fated. I had my husband, my son Rhaego was stirring within me." A shadow of a smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

"He was going to be the Vezh fin saja rhaesheseres, the Stallion that Mounts the World. My love for him was more love than I had ever received, more love than I have given since. And he was taken from me." Her smile faded as she turned back towards him. He had come around the table slowly, standing within an arms reach, ready to catch her should she fall.

"I forgot who I was for a while, I had given up on fate and faith. My people trusted me to lead them and I failed for so long that I felt that I had nothing left. So I sat upon my husband's pyre, and surrounded myself with the flames," she said contemplatively. "But when the flames died, not only was I still alive but I had three dragons at my breast. I think perhaps I was reborn that night. That it became my destiny, my duty to protect them, my people. Guide them into my new world, ensuring that they had the things that I would never have myself."

"It seems we have that in common," Jon replied.

"Duty to our people," She said matter-of-factly.

"Something like that," he said with a reluctant smile that made him seem younger.

"We protect people, Jon Snow, we've given ourselves freely to this life. And while I knew, as well as you, what would happen between us when I made the decision to come on this boat," she said holding his gaze and steeling her determination, "it cannot go farther than it already has."

"Is it really that easy for you to turn your feelings off," Jon asked angrily, his voice louder than she'd ever heard him speak. "I don't believe so, because if that's true then why are you here on this boat with me? Why did you allow me in your bed last night? You could've just as easily spared us this conversation had you told me how you felt after I knocked on your door?"

He was right, she could've but there he was at her doorstep chest pounding, eyes dilated, body tense with wanton desire. If she had resigned herself to a platonic relationship with the brooding King in the North this gesture had ceded her resolve.

"Don't you see, we are days from meeting with the Northern Lords and the King in the North, the king they chose, will be swearing fealty to my throne. I cannot be who they expect, the foreign whore come to seduce their king and purloin their kingdom," Daenerys seethed. "If you arrive besotted while having bent the knee there's no reason for them to believe any different. No. We have too much ahead of us and we can't afford to be fractured."

"That sounds more like Tyrion than you," He said with disdain in his voice.

"This is bigger than you and I and our feelings," she said loudly, irritated that he would presume her decisions aren't her own, "this is the life and death of millions of our people. And I can't worry about the next reckless thing that you'll do or ask you to set aside your duty so you'll come back to me. That —" she stated despondently as she stumbled on her words remembering his near lifeless body being tended to on her boat, "that I won't be able to save those people because I am trying to save you."

"And you think I don't worry when you fly off on Drogon. That I don't want you to be as far away as possible when the Night King comes for us? I can't predict the future Dany," he said exasperatedly, "but I do plan on surviving this war and I have a reason to survive standing right in front of me."

Daenerys thought about his words and a tear formed in her eye. "And what happens should we defeat the Night King and his army?"

"When that day comes, I will swear an oath to you. Whatever oath you will accept." He slipped his hands around her waist, pulled her close, and tilted her chin so he could see her eyes. "I will lay down my sword if you ask it, I haven't a name or I'd give it to you."

"Jon," she said quietly, a tear falling down her cheek. For just a moment she considered how easy it would be just to say those words, to tell him how she felt so they could live whatever time they had left together. But she pulled herself out of his arms and turned her back to him not ready to take away the one thing she couldn't give him.

"Daenerys, don't do that, don't run away from me," he said grabbing her hand.

She looked at their hands entwined and let the tears fall. "You deserve more than a warm bed and a willing lover." You deserve a babe with black curls and gray eyes, she thought.

He turned her to face him. "Dammit Daenerys, I want more than a lover. I want a wife, I want you. I'll say it here, I'll say it in front of the lords in Winterfell, I'll say it in front of the gods if you'll have me. Just say it once. I swear it, it won't cause you pain. Just say how you feel."

"I'm afraid," she cried out. "I'm afraid I won't be enough. I'm afraid that the threat of death will make you forget the endless possibilities of a full life and that you'll risk the promise of an heir, an heir I can't give you. I'm afraid that if I yield to our affections and we defeat this - monster - you'll realize what you've foresworn and regret any vow you've given to me."

He smiled at her then, an honest smile. "Daenerys, you're already more than what I've ever thought I'd have in this life. More than I deserve. Just say it and I will show you that you are enough." He stared into to her eyes willing the words to come.

She placed her hand on his cheek stroking the coarse hairs lining his face. She remembered the roughness from the previous night and how it had scratched her lips and her breasts and between her thighs. She quivered at the thought and slowly brought herself closer to him and brushed his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and kissed him deeply forgetting all of the reasons she fought against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as if she would disappear. After what seemed like eternity she broke their kiss and looked from his reddened lips to his deep gray eyes. His stare drew her in and she felt like she was falling and she knew her only life line was the words that were coming rapidly closer to her lips.

"I love you, Jon Snow." She said as her mind stopped fighting her heart and they crashed head first into each other. Whatever fears she had, they would fight them together.


	3. To Keep You Warm

It was still the dark of night when Daenerys was lulled awake by the gentle sway of her ship. The ethereal blue of the cloud covered moon was her only source of light as she took in her dim surroundings.

Though her mind was hazy with sleep she recalled knocking at Jon's door earlier in the night wearing only a shift much to his chagrin. He frowned at her as patches of red appeared on his cheeks. He ushered her inside quickly, scanning the corridor for late night stragglers. Before he'd had a chance to scold her for her negligent behavior, she asked lustfully, "Is it not bad manners in the north to not offer your guest a warm hearth?"

She sauntered over to the fire and slid the straps of her shift off her shoulders while easing down slowly to sit upon the furs. She eyed him with wanton desire as he stood staring at her, unmoving but for the heavy swallow in his throat and the tent forming in his loins. Once her shift was removed she tossed it at him playfully to awaken him from his trance. He caught the dress as it hit him and juggled it as if it were on fire before taking in its scent. He'd finally found his confidence as his feet set him on a path to her. He knelt in front of her and trailed sensual kisses behind her ear, down the space between her breasts and along the soft expanse of her belly. She felt heat build within her as he continued down the length of her body teasing her with light touches of his hands and lips and squeezing her hips. She felt herself drown in his desire before a burst of passion erupted inside her.

A breeze coming from the space beneath the door caused her to shiver as she came back from her memory. She looked to the hearth and saw that the embers had died out. She didn't know how long she had slept but she was sure she should be returning to her own cabin. She gathered the courage to escape the warmth of her lover's body. She pulled the furs back and carefully undraped his arm from around her waist. He looked so peaceful in that moment, his lips slightly parted and his hair tousled from their coupling.

She found her shift on the floor and donned the silken fabric once again. She walked back to the bed and lightly caressed his cheek feeling the light curls of his beard tickle her palm. She bent and closed her eyes before placing a deep kiss between his brow and a quick kiss upon his lips. He stirred briefly turning on his side with his arm stretched over where her body would have been. She sighed and hoped for the day when they would share a bed and a name.

She opened the door slightly and shivered at the wisps of cold night air sliding across her skin. She looked both ways down the corridor before exiting into the hall and pulling the door closed softly behind her. She wrapped her arms around her body and walked in light, long strides quickly to her room. With her cabin just ahead she grasped the cool doorknob and began to twist before a faint voice froze her movements.

"Mayhaps Your Grace could use a night cloak to keep you warm when you feel the need for a late night walk." Missandei's voice rang through her with warmth and knowing. She wondered why her good friend roamed the halls at this late hour but thought against extending their conversation.

She looked to her friend with a smile and replied simply, "A cloak for my walks would serve me well."

Missandei nodded and replied kindly, "May you rest well, My Queen."

"And you my friend."

Daenerys entered her room and found she was surrounded by the warmth emanating from the hearth. She smiled to herself thinking of Missandei's thoughtfulness and made her way to her bed. Though the thought of sleeping alone usually chilled her, she would rest well knowing the love of those on this ship would keep her warm.


	4. What Are We Fighting For

"She's our best hope." Jon said gruffly as impatience edged into his voice. He hadn't been home for a handful of hours before Sansa began prodding him about bending the knee to the Targaryen Queen. Leaning back against his chair he regarded Sansa. She looked so much like her mother, though where he had seen disdain and contempt in the icy blue eyes of Lady Stark, Sansa's gaze shown disappointment and anger. Would that her lady mother were here she'd be proud.

"So you've said. But surely she could be our best hope without the forfeit of our independence. Or did her never-ending list of titles not include 'breaker of chains'?" Sansa retorted jumping from her chair. "She would have us remain shackled to the throne that murdered our grandfather and uncle? The same thrown that murdered our father and brother?"

"Daenerys is not her father," Jon replied defensively while his hands curled into fists. He knew it'd be a challenge bringing Dany north to face the northern lords. He didn't expect, however, that his sister would be the first dissident. "And she is not Cersei."

Realizing that his voice had elevated he took a moment to calm himself before he continued.

"She's proven her loyalty to House Stark and the north. She's here with her armies, she's brokered a treaty with the Lannisters for their support, she's given us dragon glass to form weapons and," he took a breath before continuing, "she's risked her life and that of her dragons to save me. I am more than confident that she's earned every title she's been given and she'll see us through the Long Night."

"She risked her life to save yours," Arya asked, her voice breaking the tension. Though his study was small he'd forgotten that she was present. Her lithe frame hidden amongst the shadows that danced beyond the hearth.

"She did."

"How?" She asked evenly, eyes questioning though her face remained impassive. His youngest sister had changed. It seemed that although she was still curious, the boundless energy that usually accompanied her questions was gone. Her voice was calm but laced with an eerie confidence. He didn't know the journey she had taken to come back home but he'd hoped she'd confide in him soon enough.

"Beyond the wall. She saved us all. Lost one of her dragons retrieving one of the dead for proof." He expelled a deep breath remembering the tears she had shed for Viserion. He raised from his seat and walked toward the fire looking into the embers. "The Night King is not a child's tale. He is real and we don't stand a chance against him without her. He isn't Ramsey, he isn't Walder Frey or Joffrey Baratheon. He is death and he's come to collect us." He said looking back at Sansa and Arya letting his words hang heavy in the air. "We are fighting for life and I'd do anything, give up every kingdom to keep you two and Bran safe. This is our only option and it is done."

Sansa swallowed hard, looked at him and nodded affirmatively.

"What do you want us to do?" Arya asked as Sansa joined them at the fire.

He smiled weakly, grateful that at least for now he has their support.

"Daenerys won't be received well by the northern lords. And I expect that they won't be too keen on me bringing her here or giving up the northern crown. But they don't know what we're up against. When we meet with them tomorrow and I tell them I've bent the knee they may break faith with House Stark or ask one of you to challenge me for the crown being that you are true born and I am not."

"True born or not you are as much a Stark as we are and if one of those cunts breaks faith they'll pray to the old gods that they'll meet the Night King before House Stark comes for them." Arya said ferociously.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We'll need every able body when the dead come for us."

"I meant what I said before, brother" Sansa paused, the word foreign from her tongue to his ear but she emphasized it by looking straight into his eyes. "You are good at this. Ruling suits you."

Sansa turned her eyes toward Arya before stroking a hand to her chin and walking back towards the desk. "Perhaps, there's another way to ensure the northern lords will accept the queen."

"Aye, go on then." Jon said as he turned to face her, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

"The queen is quite beautiful and unwed." Sansa said while taking a seat in Jon's abandoned chair and clasping her hands on top of the desk.

"Sansa," Jon tried to interject but she continued on.

"A marriage alliance between you and the queen would make your children heirs to the Iron Throne. She could keep her thrown in the South and the North would have it's Northern King."

"Sansa, I won't use Daenerys as a political tool." He said exasperatedly, not wanting to fight about this subject.

"Even if it would secure the allegiance of the northern lords?" She asked challengingly.

"You would sell our brother? Like Littlefinger sold you?" Arya asked striding the short length between her and her sister.

"For our House and the Stark legacy? Always." Sansa said unblinkingly.

Jon wasn't sure if he bristled at Arya's harsh words or Sansa's boldness but it had gone far enough.

"That's enough." He said turning to face the flames once more. He hadn't planned on providing the details of his relationship with Dany this soon, but if it would prevent strife between his family it was his duty.

"I won't use her as a political tool because she means more to me than that."

Sansa glanced back at Arya before looking back at him. Both of their faces were unreadable as they stared at him in silence.

The warmth of the flames urged him on as if she were in the room with him. He turned to face them and continued. "It wasn't my — our," he said acknowledging their mutual affection, "— intention to share this with anyone until after the wars were won. I don't plan on those lords questioning her character or the reasons I've entrusted the kingdom to her. The reasons she deserves it just happen to be the reasons that I love her." He could feel the redness creep up his neck to his cheeks and he sat against the desk rubbing his hands through his hair.

"You were always a shit liar. And thanks to you dear brother, I owe Sansa two gold dragons." He looked up to see Arya leaning back with her arms folded smirking at him.

"What? You knew? And wagered on my affection?" He asked looking between his sisters. He wasn't angry but he didn't quite understand the purpose of their ruse.

"The Jon I knew couldn't look at a girl in the face let alone harbor a queen's love." Arya said flashing a grin in his direction. She looked like the little girl he left behind once more. "But it seems we must come to know each other again." He grabbed her then and hugged her in his arms and tussled her hair.

"To be honest, I hadn't thought about it before Lord Baelish mentioned it. The simplicity of two unwed monarchs falling in love died in me long ago. But when you arrived here with her at your side, it was as unmistakeable as a weirwood tree." His smile reached his eyes at her words. Though he thought the moment that he arrived home was the archway of the east gate, he knew now that it was this moment when his sisters had played a mummer's farce at his expense.

"Whatever you and Dae-ner-ys decide," Sansa said emphasizing Dany's name and smiling brightly, "we are here for you."

"Winter is here, brother, and we'll see it through together." He held Arya close before letting her go and walking towards the door.

"Thank you both." He said opening the door to his study. "I'll see you both at supper."

He shut the door behind him and heard the girls giggle as he exited into the corridor. I've never heard them laugh together before. With that thought another smile found it's way to his face and warmth found its way to his heart.

He thought that he should tell Dany what he and his sisters had spoken about but stopped short of the landing towards her quarters. There was one more Stark he had yet to visit and he knew it couldn't wait. He hadn't seen Bran since he laid abed after his fall so he quickened his stride towards his brother's room.

Upon knocking at Bran's door, he heard a small voice call him in. To his surprise, Bran already had company. He gave a wide smile to Sam who was seated at his side near the fireplace. Although Jon had seen his friend briefly in the courtyard he was glad to see him again. Sam smiled briefly while raising his hand for a small wave. His eyes flitted from Jon to Bran and finally to the floor in an anxious way.

"Come and join us Jon, we have a lot to discuss," Bran said in a somber tone that caused Jon's smile to fall. Jon turned, closed the door and walked to take his seat beside his brother.


	5. Better To Not Need It

Forwards. Left. Right. If I can't see it, how do I know it's there, she thought as she turned from side to side in her feather light shift before the mirror in her suite. She deigned to place her hand over her womb hoping to find a trace of the life inside her. Her fingers teased her stomach up and down, back and forth but she only found the flat expanse of silken fabric, only herself.

But she was sure, somewhere in her mind she knew. The sudden waves of dizziness and nausea, the tenderness of her breasts, a weight in the pit of her stomach. She knew the signs. Same as before. She allowed herself a moment to let her mind drift to her lost boy.

Her memories grew dark with thoughts of the house of the undying, the only place her child lived now. He hadn't been born before he was taken from her, but she had seen him. She knew his dark curls and deep dimples. She recalled his weight in her arms and his grip around her finger.

The picture of her child faded as a light rapt sounded at the door, and he was lost to her again.

She took a quick glance out of the window and saw that shadows lined the crevices of Winterfell as it grew darker outside. The further north they seemed to venture the earlier the sun had begun to set and only one person would dare approach her chambers after nightfall.

"You're late," the words were meant as an innocent reprimand, a joke between her and her lover, as they had grown to do. But as the old wooden door creaked open she immediately regretted the informality.

"My apologies, your grace. I wasn't aware that you had summoned me."

"No, Lady Arya, I was expecting someone else." Her queenly visage quickly replaced the look of mortification she displayed if only for the briefest of moments.

"My brother," the young Stark stated matter of factly. She strode into the room boldly before Daenerys could process what was happening. Closing the door, her eyes followed the lithe girl as she examined the suite and ghosted her hands against the bedpost and the heavy fur duvet. "You know the last person to stay in these rooms was Cersei Lannister, at least since I was in Winterfell last."

"No, I was unaware." Her body stiffened at the thought of sharing quarters with such a vainglorious woman.

Daenerys settled into a chair in front of the fire and motioned for her companion to take a seat across from her. It occurred to her that the young woman hadn't visited to simply discuss room arrangements.

"Aye," she began, taking the seat comfortably. Her dark gray eyes seemed haunted as they stared upon the flame and continued her story. "When Robert came north to make my father hand and give Sansa to Joffrey to join our two great houses. That was the last time my family was all together." The girl's voice didn't betray her emotions though her face faltered a bit. A glint in her eye a would-be tear that never fell.

"I am sorry for the loss of your family, Lady Arya. There is nothing more that I want than justice seen for the betrayals Westeros has faced because of Cersei." The girl eyed her then, glancing at her from braids to boots. If the piercing gray eyes could see the secrets within her soul they probably would. She broke contact when she realized that her right hand had begun to float over her midsection. A simple movement but a telling one. She quickly smoothed the fabric of her dress and clasped her hands together upon her lap. The young girls eyes drifted back to the flames.

"I heard tales of you in Braavos."

"You spent time in the free cities?" The question held more awe than she intended but she was thankful that the conversation hadn't turned toward the one secret she meant to keep.

"I did."

"I grew up there with my brother Viserys. But unfortunately we didn't along quite as well as you and your brother do." She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Her weakness, her vulnerability on display.

"Aye. We are close. Since we were young. Well at least Jon and I, but all of us now that we've found our way back to each other. People have tried to tear us apart, but we are wolves. We're hard to kill and we stick together. Always." Her words hung in the air as she seemed to reflect on the impossibility that her family was even back in Winterfell. The crackling fire echoed off the stone walls. "Is it true that you flew your dragons into battle against the masters in Slaver's Bay?"

A small smile found its way upon her face as she nodded humbly. "The Bay of Dragons now."

"Visenya rode Vhagar into battle against House Arryn during Aegon's conquest. She burned their fleet during the battle in the waters off Gulltown." The young woman looked a lot younger with the fire's light glinting in her eyes.

"You know Targaryen history well."

"They were my favorite stories as a child. Jon and I would sword fight in the training yard when we were younger. I would declare myself Queen Visenya and he would be Daeron, the young dragon. He would always let me win."

"I'm sure you're glad to have him back home. He spoke of you often when we were on Dragonstone. Though he didn't mention you had stopped in Braavos. What did you do there?" As if on cue, the innocence left her eyes. A blank stare sent in her direction left an eerie chill floating through her.

"Are you familiar with the House of Black and White?" The girl finally asked.

"I've heard tale of it." Daenerys recalled the assassins that killed without question and always found their target. She always wondered if the usurper had financed them to kill her as a child. Perhaps not, since she was still alive.

The girl turned back to the flame before she continued on. "That's where I trained."

"You're a faceless man then?"

"Yes. You know what that means? What I'm capable of?"

Dany simply stared at the girl, intrigued by her audacity. The injustices wrought upon her family had made her conviction for justice stronger.

"I've only ever done what was necessary, to right the wrongs. Just as Jon believed it was necessary for you to be here, to save us, even after the crimes of your family." The young girl appraised her once more. "But my sister believes that you mean to rule us. That you've somehow gotten my brother to fall in love with you and that you've seduced him into giving you the North."

The girl stood then and got closer to the hearth running her fingers along the mantle. "But my sister hasn't ever met slaves freed by Daenerys Stormborn. She's never looked upon a girl released from a whore house, or a hungry family given bread and water from the stores of the queen's great pyramid. And she's never seen an orphanage that was once lice ridden and bookless, full of smiling children, learning and eating regular meals."

Turning to her with conviction in her eyes, the girl continued on, "We can only know of lies and believe truths told to us when our own eyes, and our own hearts are open. And I pledge myself to your service, Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, because I don't have to believe in you, I've seen you."

With that the girl knelt on one knee before her, withdrawing her sword, the blade as thin as she, and laid it between them. Dany stood from her chair slowly as her breath caught in her throat. This wasn't what she'd expected from his family, let alone so soon.

"I accept your pledge, Lady Arya of House Stark. You may rise."

The girl stood and dusted herself off roughly. "Now that that's out of the way. What about my brother?" The girls words were so nonchalant after such a grand commitment made, Dany was thrown off.

"What about him?"

"He's the father of your child?" There was no sense in lying, though she wasn't ready for others to know.

"He is," she confirmed softly. "But he's more than that. He's the greatest man I've ever known. And he has given me something I never thought I could have again." She wrung her fingers together nervously as she thought of the complexity of their situation. The timing was all wrong. Would he even want a child? Would he think me a liar? All questions she wasn't yet ready to face.

"Where will you be when the war comes to Winterfell," Arya asked pulling her from her pit of despair.

"Where I always am in battle. With my men, atop Drogon, bringing fire and blood to the Night King."

"Jon will try to stop you."

"He knows I will fight with my people."

"Even with child," the girl asked  
skeptically.

She hadn't had time to consider how he would feel about her fighting in the skies with their child within her belly. But what choice did they have? "Yes. There won't be a world for my child to live in if every man and woman doesn't fight. A Khaleesi that doesn't ride is no Khaleesi."

"He doesn't know then."

"No. I've only just found out myself. But I'll not tell him yet and I ask that you do the same. Not until I speak with a maester and, if it can be helped, not until after the battle is won. He must stay focused and I must be allowed to do my duty. In this, you and I must stand united. I will fight and you will as well, it's in your blood. No one can stop us."

She seemed to understand her then as her face became resigned. "No, no one can. What weapon will you use?"

"My dragons."

"And on the ground? Surely you have some skill with a bow? A sword?"

Daenerys blushes at the thought, recalling the danger she'd been in when Ser Jaime had charged at her. If Drogon hadn't been there... "I've never been in hand to hand combat."

The girl quickly pulled a small dagger from her sword belt. "This. Valyrian steel. You will carry it. Should you find yourself on the field of battle, it'll kill the wights my brother spoke about. It'll help protect you and your child. It's simple enough to use. Just stab them with it and they should shatter into pieces. At least that's what Jon said."

She remembered seeing the dead bodies turning to dust as Jon twirled nimbly and cut them down with his Valyrian steel sword. "It's true. I've seen them fall apart at his hand. Though he is a skilled fighter it won't take much to kill them with the right weapon." She took the dagger and ran her fingers over the blade and the grip admiring the inlaid jewels. A fine dagger should be in the hands of someone more capable . "Are you sure? Don't you want to keep it for yourself?"

"I'd rather it protect my niece or nephew," she said shyly, looking towards the door. "Anyways, this has served me well this far."

"Then it shall protect us," she said giving a hearty smile and a quick nod to the young girl.

With a deep bow, Arya made her way to the door before turning back to her. "You should tell him, you know. Soon. Before we fight. He should know what he's fighting for."

"Thank you, Lady Arya, for your council." She would consider it, though the thought itself was terrifying.

"Just Arya. Like I said, wolves stick together. I'll send Sam up. He should be able to give you the confirmation you're looking for."

A tear trickled from her eyes, and a smile fell upon her face as the girl left and she made her way back to the mirror. Running her hands over her womb once more, her blurry eyes stared at her reflection. Resolute in her decision and impatient for his arrival, she laid on the bed letting sleep pass the time. When she awoke, she would tell him and their lives would be forever changed.


	6. Hold The World With Me, Part One

"Daenerys?"

She heard the light voice in the distance, stirring her from the place where dreams live. She felt heavy with sleep as her eyes struggled to open. It took several moments for her to focus on the shadowy figure hovering over her. While her mind instructed her to panic, the voice rang out again in familiarity.

"Daenerys, wake up," the voice whispered to her pleadingly.

"Jon?" She questioned in her haze. "Wh-where have you been?" She attempted to stifle the anger that was building inside her as she remembered that she hadn't seen him since she was led to the guest quarters by Lady Stark when they arrived in Winterfell earlier in the day. Yesterday, by now she thought.

"Thinking." He said while helping her sit up. She welcomed his touch but was uneasy at his response. "There's something I must show you," he said softly.

"Show me? At this hour? I don't understand."

"I know," he hesitated but continued on. "It's important and it's best I tell you now than waste any more time."

"Alright," she said giving into his plea. "Can you hand me my dressing gown just in the wardrobe, there?"

He walked over to the wardrobe and removed the thickly made gown that Missandei had made for her on the boat to White Harbor. Her friend had insisted that she have a warm cloak to shield her from the cool corridors of the castle, should she require a late night walk. Daenerys blushed at the thought.

She donned the cloak as Jon opened the door to the hallway. Two unsullied guards stood sentry not giving a second thought to the King in the North exiting her rooms in the dead of night. An expectation they'd gotten from their stay at White Harbor she was sure.

Jon unsheathed a lighted torch from a wall sconce and offered his arm to her. She obliged as he led her out of the guest house and into the courtyard. The brisk winter air hit her immediately and she stepped closer into his warmth. It might have been considered improper had anyone been awake.

Though light snow fell upon them, there was a break in the clouds and the white light of the moon shown on their path. She hadn't yet explored the castle and didn't know where he was taking her, but his stride was sure and his eyes were focused. He hadn't spoken to her since they left her room and she didn't question him.

"This is the godswood," he said as they followed a path that wound through trees as white as the moonlight with leaves that seemed dark crimson but became blood red as the torch passed near to them. "This is where the old gods live."

Daenerys had never held a Septas faith in any gods but an eerie feeling settled within her nonetheless.

They continued down the path until they came across a tree that if she wasn't mistaken held a face on its bark. A queer face of red that reminded her of a bleeding comet she once saw streaking the sky.

"You've taken me from the warmth of my bed," she said as he laid down a wool blanket and guided her to sit on it against a large root that peaked through the ground. "I'd like to hear what was so important that you've left your queen unattended since our arrival."

He sat down beside her and looked down at his hands. They were worn with scars and burns, hardened from years of use. He placed her hands against his and seemed to measure the size between them. He then gazed into her eyes. "Your hands are small," he said without changing his visage from the pained look he had carried. "But they hold the world in them as I do." He then clasped their hands together and gave a slight squeeze before speaking again. "I spoke with Bran awhile ago. He sees things." She nodded skeptically remembering when his brother sent a raven to Dragonstone alerting them to the Night King marching for the wall. She shuddered at the thought. "He saw the Night King as he did before, except this time he wasn't marching toward the wall." Jon took a beat and cast his eyes downward.

"What did your brother see?" she asked him squeezing his hands.

"Viserion. He saw the Night King riding Viserion and breaking through the wall with his army. He rides for Winterfell." He finally looked into her eyes and she knew what he said was true.

She took a moment to digest what he said but suddenly she felt hot and nauseous. She stood up holding her hands to her stomach, bile threatening to creep up her throat. Tears stung her eyes threatened to escape as her breathing became labored under the tightness of her chest.

"It's okay, Dany. I'm here. Just breathe." He said standing in front of her placing his hands on either of her cheeks. "Just keep breathing, we'll get through this."

"Get through this?" She exclaimed raggedly, her breathing laborious and her tears dripping under his palms. Her eyes fluttering and looking everywhere but him.

"Look at me," He said sternly looking deeply into her eyes. "We'll kill him and we'll give Viserion a proper rest. I promise you." She listened to his words and knew he couldn't tell a lie. She caught her breath and exhaled deeply. She shut her eyes and leaned into him. He held her then with his strong arms caressing her back, placing his cheek in her hair.

She looked back in her memories to when he was just born. Though he had been named for her brother he was gentler than his namesake and fiercely loyal. His fate was one undeserved and she would see he was given justice.

"He will die," she said with a burning growl released from deep within her.

"Aye. He will."

"How long do we have," she asked, finally pulling back to face him.

"More time than we think, luckily for us. He'll take his time before he falls upon us. He'll want to build his army and take as many souls from the castles to the north before making his way toward us."

"Do they know?"

"Sam has started sending ravens for Karhold and the other keeps but it may be too late by the time they get there. But it's the best we can do with the time we have."

"No, it's not," she said determinedly. Her voice steady, the tears drying on her skin. "I will go on Drogon. I could leave tonight, now even."

"No, it's too risky. Drogon is too important. You're too important." He said grasping her hands and staring at her in a way that tore at her resolve.

"How many men, women and children will die if we do nothing? How many fighters can we afford to lose? How many enemies can we afford to gain?" She knew he couldn't argue with that. He let out a rough growl but she could see on his face that his mind was working out her words.

"You're right. But we need to make a plan. We'll meet with Bran and my sisters at first light and get support from the lords who've arrived. You're not doing this alone, Daenerys."

"Then it's done," she said strongly. She knew it wasn't good news but she was glad that for at least a few hours peace would be had.

"No. We're not done yet." He said looking at her sadly.

"We're not?" He didn't reply to her, only shifted on his feet and dragged his hand through his beard. She'd come to know that these expressions hinted at his fear of her response. She knew that whatever came next could only be worse than the slaving of her child. She wasn't sure she was ready for it but she knew the worst was yet to come.


	7. Hold The World With Me, Part Two

Jon looked over the courtyard of Winterfell from Bran's room, an almost overwhelming sense of grief causing him to grip the window pane. Silent tears made a path down the hard lines of his face.

"Jon, I know this must be difficult for you but it's not the end of the world."

"Bad choice of words Sam," Jon said flatly although he knew his friend meant well.

"Ooh - ah - well, yes. I'm sorry. What I meant was that all this time you thought you were a bas...uh well you know. But you're not. You're a prince Jon. The Prince."

"A lot of good me being a prince has done for everybody." Jon said resigned. He turned to face Sam and Bran. "They started a war. They caused the death of thousands of men." He felt his voice rising as he continued. "All because Rhaegar wanted to what, fulfill some prophecy? He might've loved her but he had a family. A wife, children. What kind of a man, what kind of a king would sacrifice everything?"

"I've been thinking for months now on how to move past these feelings," Bran said emotionlessly. The words seemed familiar to Jon but he couldn't place them. "Telling myself that we don't have time for distractions. The Night King is coming and we need to be focused. But being here with you now, it's as if none of that matters if I don't have you by my side, Daenerys. I love you, Dany." Jon blushed as his brother threw back the words he'd given to Daenerys on their way to White Harbor.

"Love is the death of duty, cousin," Bran said so piercingly he had to look away.

"They had a role to play. Just as you do. Just as Daenerys does." Jon looked at his brother again at the mention of her name.

"Be done with it Jon Snow. I've not come here in the middle of the night for your silence." Daenerys said impatiently as he took a breath and continued.

"Bran told me of my mother, and of my father."

"And," she asked closing the distance between them.

"And he lied."

"Your father," she questioned. "How did he lie about something he's never told you?"

"Ned Stark wasn't my father." Jon revealed matter-of-factly, the words leaving his mouth easier than he thought they would.

"What?" She said, her faced etched in confusion.

He turned to the tree, placed his hand upon the face, and hung his head. There was no turning back now.

"Bran told me that they were in love, that they wed under a tree like this." He paused.

"Rhaegar and Lyanna." He faced her then, staring in her eyes waiting for realization to set in.

"Rhaegar?" She whispered incredulously.

He nodded, reluctant to speak and interrupt her mind processing their situation.

"Lyanna?" Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth hung open. She spun on her heals, her back facing him as she held her arms around herself. "But I thought, I was told — "

"We were all lied to," he reassured her.

"They wed," she said to herself as she turned to face him once again. "But that means, that you're..." Her eyes widened as she finally understood.

"Aye."

"Jon," she said softly, tears forming in her eyes. She stepped closer to him and brought her hand to his cheek. His eyes had already begun to water as he closed them and leaned into her touch. He felt her shift closer to him and lean her forehead against his. He felt them sink to the ground, the weight of the world pushing them against the roots of the heart tree and he wept.

He didn't know how long they had been sobbing in each other's arms but he could tell by the fading light of the moon that some time had passed. He pulled back from her slowly, and wiped his thumb across the nearly dried trail of tears on her cheek.

"Will this change things between us," she asked breaking the silence. The question lingered in the air as he used the tree to bring himself up and then helped her to her feet.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. He saw her head dip and with his hands still holding hers he looked her in her eyes and continued, "I know that I love you."

"But I also know that my father was your brother," he felt heavy in his stomach as he said the words.

"There is a part of me that is bothered by all of this. Like I've been used." He enlaced their arms and started walking slowly along the path back towards the courtyard.

"Bran said Rhaegar believed in prophecies and that he thought his son would be The Prince That Was Promised." His jaw tightened as he continued. "The one to lead us all through the long night."

"What do you believe?"

"I've never believed in prophecies. I believe in what's ahead of us. Prophecy or not, I believe you and I are the best hope we have to defeat the Night King." He glanced at her briefly and saw her nod in agreement.

They walked back to her rooms in silence as they had before. It wasn't the same silence or the same unspoken words but it still felt heavy with grief.

When they arrived at her door she dismissed her guards with a lift of her brow. Her power still left him in awe and he gave her a tight smile before releasing her arm.

It was then that she surprised him and placed a chaste kiss to his lips and pulled back and looked in his eyes with conviction.

"I know that it is a lot to ask of you to be how we were before and I won't do that," she began. "When you stepped on Dragonstone, I found you Jon Snow and you found me. There is nothing in this world that can change how I feel about you. I will wait for you, Jon, no matter how long you take to come back to me. And when you do, we will get through this together."

He had never felt such a loss for words. He knew it had been selfish to force this burden upon her but he needed her to understand. He needed her support. He needed her.

It was then that he fell into her arms and took her lips in his. He backed her against the door and felt a surge of heat in his chest. He grasped for her doorknob, forced the door open and led her through the threshold.

He didn't know if it was right and at that moment he didn't care. He just knew that this night would be theirs and if he could help it he wouldn't leave the warmth of her body until the world called them as the sun rose.


	8. You're Not Alone Anymore

"I wasn't aware that you held faith in the old gods, Your Grace," a soft voice said from behind Daenerys as footsteps crunched towards her in the snow. She stilled as recognition set in. Though the voice that greeted her held notes of kindness, she was also aware of the reluctant pleasantries that had come from the same voice when she arrived in Winterfell.

"I hold no gods, Lady Stark," she replied hollowly, "but I can appreciate the serenity of your Godswood." Daenerys had come to the holy ground in search of solace after the air had become thick with malcontent in the great hall. Their decision to fly north and save the people of Karhold and Last Hearth had drawn ire from the northern lords, displeased that their king was running off again. Bloody fools.

Sansa drew a breath and stood alongside her. Dany took a glance at her companion. Her fiery red hair was cloaked against the falling snow and her piercing blue eyes trailed out to some unknown point in the distance. The Lady of Winterfell was younger than her by some years but had a hardened exterior that hinted at a life not so unlike her own. Jon had beamed with pride at his sister's ability to run Winterfell but the spark faltered when he spoke of how she survived the tragedy that befell her.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your dragon, of Viserion," Sansa said with an unexpected warmth in her voice.

Dany dipped her head in acknowledgement but couldn't find the words to reply. The memory of her child fresh in her mind.

"I can't say that I know what it feels like to lose a child, your Grace, but I do know the pain of death. I was powerless when my father was executed. I remember kneeling on the platform of the great Sept praying for mercy but the Seven knew nothing of mercy and Joffrey, he only knew cruelty and destruction. My father's death was written the moment he stepped foot in the capital. Unlike us, he rests now in the crypts below us. Along with my mother and brothers." A solemn acceptance appeared on her face. "I don't know that I'd have the strength to face them were they fighting on the side of the dead. So I thank you for your sacrifice, your Grace."

Daenerys regarded her then, seeing a small crack in the steeled facade, one only created from honesty. She didn't know why but a fire ignited within her at the lady's words. "From what your brother tells me, Lady Sansa, your strength is limitless. And I've never heard a lie fall from his lips," she stared heavily into the young woman's eyes. "I know well what happens to a woman who is given as a prize to a weak man who wishes to conquer the world. Many who've been through what you've been through, what I've been through, have not survived. And yet here we are. We've outlived those weak men, leading our houses, the houses that many thought were lost. We stand at the precipice of battle against our greatest enemy and I don't see you singing any hymns or sitting in any sewing circles. Surely you can accept that you are far more capable than you've allowed yourself to believe." Dany's anger began to subside as the young woman gathered a smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Are you certain that you want to go north?" Sansa asked after a brief moment of silence. The only other sound was the hissing of the wind and the rustling of the leaves. "The castles and their people could already be overrun. It might be too great a risk for you both."

Daenerys eyed the lady warily at the change in subject but answered honestly. "I've looked the Night King in the eyes, he won't hesitate to destroy every single life that stands in front of him. If we can save just one person it'll be worth it."

"Why would you do that? Save the life of the northmen as if they were your own people," Sansa asked still looking ahead.

"They are my people," Daenerys hesitated to speak further but she felt she must prove herself. "Contrary to the belief of your bannermen, I didn't come here to sit idle while men fall in battle. I came to fight alongside you. I have brought my dragons and my armies here instead of marching them to the Red Keep, to Cersei, because I know first hand of the threat that is coming for us, your brother made sure of that. You can be certain that the Night King will not discern northmen from southerners. Either way we will be united, whether it be in the fight for life or in death after he comes for us."

Sansa turned to face her inhaling deeply before she spoke her next words, "So you've pledged your forces to aiding the north without our pledge of fealty. And if we don't submit to your rule?"

"My assistance isn't a bargaining chip. Fealty or not I'll stand beside you in this war."

"My brother, he is our king and he chose you as his queen after only a few months of knowing each other," Sansa said concretely, suspicion in her voice.

Daenerys knew that the trust of Jon's sister would be difficult to gain, especially given the betrayal she faced with the monarchs who destroyed her family, but she couldn't shake the sense that Sansa held a particular resentment towards her.

"Lady Sansa, what is it that you really want to know? Please speak freely, the end of the world is here and the reasons to hide behind words are few."

Sansa stared at her as if she were a child caught sneaking cakes but spoke anyways. Her eyes hung low before she looked into Dany's eyes.

"My brother has been fighting his whole life. Fighting for respect from those who would call him a bastard. Fighting at the wall against the Wildlings and the Nights Watch. Fighting to take back our home from Ramsey, because I asked him to. And now fighting for all of us in a war we may lose because it is what is right. His honor is endless and for that reason peace has never found him. These small moments of reprieve before the Night King and his army falls upon us may be the last moments of calm he will ever have. I don't wield a sword, your grace, or suffer my enemies a cowardly death with poisons and potions nor do I carry the might of fire breathing dragons. But on my honor as a Stark and as the lady of this house, I will raise our banners against any who bring him harm."

Daenerys was struck by the brashness of her words but could only feel warmth in her protectiveness, one that she'd never received from her brother. Jon deserved that. "I see. And is that what you think? That my intentions are to harm your brother? If so, your threats are misplaced," her words calm and sympathetic. "I don't know what, if anything, your brother has said about me but I can assure you that our alliance is built on mutual trust. I've come to respect him and value his council. I -"

"You love him?" Sansa interjected.

"Yes," she admitted slowly. Gathering herself she continued on knowing the truth was all she could provide. "I never intended to love your brother, Lady Sansa. When he stepped on my island, I was near to setting his ships aflame for not bending the knee but for his honesty, his honor and his heart he changed my mind. In the end, I refused his fealty. He may have bowed before me, before the whole of the realm, but he is the king I chose. We will defeat the enemy to the north and the enemy to the south and when we do we will rule and we will do it together."

"You intend to marry?"

"I do," she responded unwaveringly. "You and I want the same thing, your brother to be safe and at peace at the end of all this. But that won't happen until the wars are won. To do that, we must not run from that which scares us and we must do everything in our power to protect those who are without protection. I think it's better that you and I work towards that goal together."

"Then you must protect him from himself. He may be brave and selfless but he is reckless with his life."

"That he is, but as much as he thinks it's up to him to save the world, it's now up to me to save him because I can't imagine living this life without him. He'll have me at his back in this fight Lady Sansa. And we will survive. You have my word."

"I'll hold you to it," Sansa said looking to Daenerys once more before turning to leave. "Anyways it seems he has something, someone, to live for now. Don't take that away from him. For better or worse, you're a part of our pack now and you must survive this. Take care of yourselves and each other. We'll be waiting for you when you get home." She said as she turned her back and walked away leaving Daenerys in awe at the unknown feeling.

Waiting for me to come home? Waiting for me? Home? A tear fell down her cheek. All these things he had given her. Sansa was right. She must protect him and she would.

Just then Jon walked through the gates dressed in his heavy leathers and furs. A resigned smile upon his lips.

"Are you ready?" he asked reaching his arm out for her.

She nodded as she placed her arm in his and they walked towards her dragons.


	9. With Eyes Like Yours

"I told you to stay in the air," his words were laced with anger and frustration, "no matter what happened." His heavy cloak billowed behind him as his footfalls echoed off the walls of Dany's chamber while he paced before her. She was sat upon the bed being poked and prodded by Sam. The only maester he trusted to tend to her. His imposing regality hadn't shown more so than when ordering for her immediate care once they arrived back at Winterfell nearly two hours before.

"And I told you we do this together," she managed to eek out through gritted teeth. Her pale face was etched in pain and though his initial reaction had been to coddle her and ensure her safety, he had fallen into a ravenous anger when he knew she'd be okay. "How could I stay in the air while you were nearly surrounded? What would you have me do? Leave you? Like before?" She lurched forward at Sam's touch and wretched into the basin beside her bed.

"Apologies, Your Grace. But if you consider taking milk of the poppy the pain and —"

"Aye, like before." Jon interjected loudly, ignoring Sam. "And where did you get that dagger?"

"It was a gift. For protection."

"A gift? From who?" A tinge of jealousy sparking in his voice.

"Jon, I'm not sure now is a good time to argue. The queen is quite weak. Perhaps —"

"I may be slightly injured —" she continued on.

"Slightly? Daenerys —"

"— but I am still queen, and I will not lay abed in an unclear state while our enemy draws near. While I always consider wise council, I will not answer to those questioning my personal affairs nor do I need a sleeping tonic." she said looking between Sam and himself. Every word she said seemed to cause greater pain as beads of sweat formed at her brow. Her eyes sallow. She had barely been able to hold on to Drogon on their way back to Winterfell. "I am fine. I just need a little rest."

"Damnit Daenerys, please stop being stubborn and take the poppy," he said stopping directly in front of her. His scowl faded and it was quickly replaced by a sympathetic look. "You're not fine," he said turning to her. "Your arm is dislocated, you're feverish. You need as much rest as possible if Sam is suggesting it," he heaved a breath and faltered. "I shouldn't have let you go." This was his fault. "You could've died."

"Let me go? You believe yourself capable of commanding your queen now?" Pain still flowed through her words but they had a levity that showed she wasn't as mad anymore. "We journeyed together to save our people. And we did just that. I wasn't going to see you martyr yourself in a battle when the war has just begun."

"Just a bit more," Sam said pinning her tourniquet into place. "There. It'll be a couple of days before it starts to feel less sore."

"Thank you, Sam." She said smiling softly.

"And her fever? She seemed a little peaked before we left but it got worse after the attack."

"Well, her grace is in a delicate condition," said matter of factly, "but a bit of peace," an emphasis in his voice, "and quiet will help things along."

"Sam, could you give us the room?" She asked quietly.

"Of course, your grace." He said turning back to Dany. "I'll send Gilly by later with some refreshments that should settle your stomach. If you need anything else, just let her know and I'll come back to check on you."

She gave him a warm smile as he bowed politely and took his leave. After the door closed, she fell heavily on the pillow, exhaustion finally getting the better of her.

"Daenerys," he said quietly.

"I get injured in battle and suddenly it's Daenerys." She said turning from him.

He sat upon the bed next to her.

"Dany," he said sadly as he took in her mangled frame. She looked tired and weak. But her eyes showed a learned strength and he knew he couldn't stay mad at her.

"That's better, my love," she said sitting up and reaching her unbandaged hand to caress his cheek. He knelt in front of her and leaned into her touch. He closed his eyes trying to will himself back on the boat with her, before she'd gotten injured, before the Night King had passed the wall, before he knew his true parentage.

"You need your rest. You should've taken the poppy." he replied keeping his eyes closed unwilling to come out of his reverie.

"I'd feel even more useless than I do now."

"You're not useless, Dany." He said moving to lay beside her on the bed. He carefully pulled her into him letting her head lay across his chest. His fingers twirled loosely in her hair.

"I saw you standing, fighting those monsters. They surrounded you. I did what I did because the thought of losing you was more than I could bare. And I'd do it again."

He smiled, a warmth blossoming in his heart that she would risk her life for him. He still couldn't fathom how much she loved him. He didn't feel like he deserved it. And yet here they were.

"I love you, Dany. I know I didn't make that clear before we left with everything that happened but I can't lose you. And seeing you out there fighting," he bit back a tear, "and falling —"

"I'm here Jon. We both are."

"Aye, we are," he said resigned.

A moment passed in silence and her breathing slowed. He thought she had fallen asleep but she took a deep breath before she spoke again.

"It's not a fever." She said almost at a near whisper.

"Hmm?" He asked, unsure of what exactly she meant.

She pulled away from his chest and looked at him with a fearful eye. "It's not a fever."

"What is it?" He wasn't sure what she was trying to say, but concern began to creep over his face as if whatever it was was somehow worse.

She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her lips before pressing it gently to her stomach.

He stared at his hand as the truth sank in. His face sliding rapidly from confusion to wonder and finally to discontent.

"You're with child?" He asked slowly, but he was certain before the question left his lips. She nodded hesitantly.

"You knew this before we left?" He said before standing up and pacing again and running his hands through his hair. "Gods Daenerys! You risked not only your life but the life of our child?"

"What was I supposed to do? I'm not an invalid. It was my duty. And Sam told me it was still early. So the chances of harm —"

"Sam knows?"

"A part of me knew, but yes he confirmed it." She huffed out a breath and swept her eyes downward, almost ashamed to face him.

"You drive me mad woman. I can't believe you kept this from me." He was trying hard to be upset with her but he looked upon her and he knew he wouldn't be mad long.

"What would you have me do? Tell you that I carried a child, your child, after being barren for years? When you weren't even certain you wanted me?" Her words caught in her throat at her revelation.

A recognition washed over him as he remembered how they had left things. Why would she have told me after I left things the way I did. Gods Jon. But he needed to be sure it was true. He knelt in front of her and gathered her uninjured hand between his. "Say it. I need you to say it to me."

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears and her mouth tightened as if she were afraid to say the words. He hadn't meant to scare her but this was unexpected and she could've died and he would never have known.

"Please, say it for me love. I'm not angry. Just, I need to hear it."

"I'm with child. I'm carrying our child." As if a dam had broken, tears finally fell from her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

He pressed his forehead to hers and wiped the tears from her eyes, though it was futile because his tears had begun to fall as well. He kissed her across her brow and her cheeks and her lips until her face was covered in his love. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Ouch!" She yelped, pulling back from him laughing as she rubbed her bandaged arm.

"I'm sorry love. I'm so sorry," he said clasping her face in his hands. He began to laugh as well.

"I'm going to be a father." He said after their bout of laughter had ended. He had settled himself once more on the bed and held her close. An easy smile on his face and his hand rubbing softly over her flat belly.

"You are going to be a father," her voice hummed on his chest.

"I hope her eyes look like yours," he said while kissing her temple.

"Her?" She asked turning to look at him.

"Aye, she's a little lass. I'm sure of it. And she'll look just like her mother. We'll teach her dragon riding and how to wield a sword."

"A sword?" She said raising her eyebrow in defense.

"Arya wouldn't have it any other way." He chuckled at the thought of his younger sister swinging Needle in the training yard.

"Jon?" She asked with a worried look in her eye.

"Yes, my love."

"Promise me she'll survive. I don't know if I can bare losing her. Not again." A newly formed tear dropped from her eye.

"Shh, Dany." He pulled her close again and let her weep until she was spent. "I promise you Dany that I'll do everything I can to keep her safe. Anyone that would harm her will see the sharp end of my sword."

"I'll hold you to it." She said exhaling. He exhaled as well knowing that was the best promise he could keep. He knew that their enemies would still come, he just hoped he'd be there long enough to stop them.


	10. Words I Could Never Say Aloud

He tossed more kindling to stoke the dying flames, the crackling only enhancing the silence and solitude of the shadowy room. After prodding the charred logs back to life and watching the shadows dance on the walls, he found himself slouching in the rigid wooden chair. He expelled a wistful breath drawing his eyes over the accumulation of crumpled parchment strewn haphazardly across his desk. The discarded letters were full of blotchy, stygian fingerprints and harsh lines drawn through insipid words. The tale of hours spent trying to write words that would never come easily.

He'd trudged down the corridors to find consolation in his solar after trying, and failing, to succumb to his overwhelming exhaustion. The frigid temperatures and severe darkness that came with the depths of winter did nothing to stave off his restlessness. Leaving Dany's side with precious few hours left pained his heart, but he found there was only one thing he could do to ease his distress.

Not two days before, the first wave of dead had come to Winterfell's walls. Thousands of azure eyes gained advantage, clawing over Dothraki, Unsullied and Northern troops alike. The tight formations of the living's armies wilted under their enemies indiscriminate attack. Their defenses were nearly overwhelmed before Brienne felled a White Walker causing a significant portion of their army to collapse. The remaining wights turned tail as their overseers regressed. Walking away as if they'd left a tourney instead of a battle. Suffering heavy losses, their council realized that should the Night King send his full might, their forces would be decimated and the castle would be lost.

Retreat was imminent. Abandoning Winterfell and fleeing to Dragonstone was their only option. There they could strategize and regroup, here they'd only find death. Sansa's steeled reserve faltered briefly at the thought of losing her home again.

_There must always be a Stark in Winterfell_. _We must stand firm against them or the North will fall, our home will fall_, she pleaded.

Her eyes sought Jon's for support, their shared memory of retaking their home no doubt fresh in her mind. Words escaped him as he looked to Dany and Davos, but it was Arya who answered.

_The north is its people, Winterfell is our family. We will find another home, sister. _

In the end, they decided to divide into two groups. Dany would lead the most vulnerable to White Harbor with Sam, Bran, and Sansa. Jon would stay behind leading the rear guard with Arya, Jaime, Brienne, and Jorah. With the Golden Company advancing north along the Kings Road and the dead pressing south, no where would be safe. Dany reassured them that this strategy would safeguard both groups with Drogon and the Unsullied protecting against the sellswords and Rhaegal, the Dothraki and the northern soldiers to stand against the dead. What other option did they have? The council reluctantly agreed and the clock began to count the hours before they went their separate ways.

They found themselves cuddled beneath the heavy furs in their chambers shortly after, savoring their final moments together. He had lain across her chest caressing her supple belly where their daughter grew. It'd only been a few weeks since he learned he would be a father. It still felt surreal but he knew deep inside it was true. And in that truth he found fear.

In a rush of panic, he clambered from her embrace glancing his thumbs across the hollows of her cheeks, unshed tears flooding his eyes. He had begged her to let him sweep them away. Fly all of the people they loved away from this wretched land. At her word, they could escape to Essos and live long enough to see their daughter born safely into the world. Her words bobbed in her throat before she guided his eyes to meet her own. Tears tracked down her cheeks, pooling in his palms as anguish creeped in her voice. She denied him with a stiff shake of her head, her eyes closing before spoke.

_We must choose duty my love, it is greater than our deepest desires._ _But there is no force in this world stronger than the will of a dragon and I will not be kept from you. We will not be kept from you. _She dragged their hands to smooth against her naked belly, silken and warm with the life growing inside. _I command you, Jon Snow, to live and return to us. Promise me._

He wanted to promise her, he wanted to promise them both, but he knew the words would be false. Instead, he tangled their bodies together in a rapturous fury. His lips and hands spared no inch of her body. Teasing and biting and licking her in a fit of anguish. He needed to remember the weight of her supple body, the fragrance of her essence, the deep grooves of her curves, the pitch of her voice as she shattered beneath him. His senses thrumming at a fever pitch, he found his release not long after.

He'd enveloped her in his arms until he heard her breath even and light snores fell from her lips. He could spend a lifetime telling her how much he loved her and how she'd brought purpose into his life, but his words never seemed to hold the weight of what he felt within.

He found himself staring at the imperfections in the ceiling wondering what kept him awake. Arya fighting beside him on the battlefield? Surely, he was worried for her, but he knew she could hold her own. Dany and their daughter being separated from him. He stole a glance at her, her stomach moving up and down in time with her breath. Momentary distress creasing his forehead with worry.

_No. Whatever happens to me, she will survive. She can make impossible things happen._

He returned his gaze to the ceiling, looking past the wooden beams straining to find the answers in his mind. His thoughts drifted to those he'd already lost.

_Father._

_Robb._

_Rickon._

_Lyanna._

_Rhaegar. _

The ones he never knew. The ones who held the secrets. The ones who never said goodbye.

Facing the Night King was certain and if he were honest, he held little faith that he would survive. And if he were to fall, he would be just like them, leaving family behind to contemplate the words left unsaid. And his daughter. His daughter would never know his own words. She would never know how much he loved her. How much he wanted to see her grow.

_Dany would make sure she knew. But…_

The lingering doubt clouded his mind as his brow furrowed at the realization. The answer to what had kept him awake this night staring him right in the face. He'd never gotten the chance to say goodbye. Not to his father, not to Robb. Not to Rickon, who was just outside his reach. And Lyanna and Rhaegar? They were his parents but he held his doubts.

_Did they even want me? Did they even love me?_

How could he know for sure? Horror struck him at the thought of his daughter being haunted by the same questions.

Throwing on a tunic, trousers, and slippers, he placed a wispy kiss upon Dany's brow and left the warmth of their chambers to seek out a peace of mind. And so he found himself in his solar, parchment and inkwell at the ready.

His fingertips danced over the five small scrolls that lay completed before him. No one could accuse him of being verbose but the concise words held within were written truly. Each waxed with his seal, a name scrawled in his clumsy script.

_Sam._

_Bran._

_Sansa._

_Arya._

_Dany._

He had found the words simple enough to produce knowing who they were written for. But the one scroll he had come here for, the scroll that kept him up at night, remained elusive. He'd wasted several trees attempting to convince his daughter, who he'd never met, that he loved her. They all started the same..._My dearest daughter..._but he found no words sufficient enough to unburden his heart.

Dipping his pen into the inkwell, he laid out another sheet of parchment, he began once more.

_My dearest daughter,_

_I was never good with words and I find I'm even less so when writing to you._

_For nearly my entire life, I've asked myself the same questions that are probably spindling in your head now as you read this. Whether I wanted you, whether I loved you, why I left._

_Again and again these questions would churn in my mind. When I was just a boy, a voice would always be there to convince me that it was possible that my parents might've wanted me, that they could've loved me, that they didn't mean to leave me. But as I grew older and the world grew harsher, I eventually gave way to the doubts. Any happiness I found in this world, I didn't deserve. Because who could ever love a bastard born, motherless child, discarded for the world to see?_

_These feelings defined me for so long. I tried to be a good person, be a good leader. But I didn't realize how broken I was until I met your mother. The strongest woman I'd ever known believed in me, trusted me, loved me. And who was I, that she should feel this way? I didn't deserve her. My name alone would dishonor her. So I pushed her away, tried to make it impossible for us to fall in love. But your mother makes impossible things happen._

_I never want you to wonder if I wanted you, if I loved you. Because I did, and I do. _

_I don't want you to wait until you're a woman grown to know how proud of you make me. Because I am and I'll always be._

_Even now, while you are still growing within your mother, I long for the sight of you. To cradle you in my arms, to soothe your tears, to protect you from a world crumbling all around us._

_But I know you'll survive. I know you'll be fierce, yet honorable. Determined, yet humble. Tough, yet fair. You'll be all these thing because you're a Targaryen and you're a Stark. Nothing can ever change that, my darling._

_Remember my words my sweet child, I love you. Farewell until we meet._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Papa_

Contented, he blew a breath over the entire parchment, sealing the words into the pulp. He rolled the paper carefully between his fingers then dribbled beads of hot wax at the edge. He lowered the stamp firmly, enclosing his first and final words to his daughter. He brought the pen to the paper once more and gingerly wrote, _My Daughter_, next to his sigil.

Looking at the scroll in his hands, he felt unburdened. He smiled gently, thinking of how she would feel reading it, the reverie a pleasant one.

He gathered the other scrolls, stood up from his desk, and extinguished the fire in the hearth. Closing the door to his solar for the last time, he made his way back to his two loves.


End file.
